Last Breath
by Pickles Nickels
Summary: They've always been able to get themselves out of the stickiest situations, but this time...they're not coming home. EO oneshot. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATHS.


Disclaimer- Not. Mine.

A/N- Oneshot I came up with when I had too much time on my hands, and an iPod shuffle of the most emo songs possible as my background music (I love how that always happens...). I apologise for any spelling mistakes, for I have a major case of senioritis and am not in the mood to nitpick the whole thing.Please review :)?

* * *

Bang. 

The shot shattered the brief silence preceding it, like the storm coming after the calm. It seemed as if the whole world stopped for a minute, as the hot metal bullet spiralled into Olivia's stomach, and she fell to the floor in slow motion. Nothing else mattered but getting to her in that second, not even letting this sick bastard run free.

"Olivia!" Was that him yelling her name? His voice sounded so unreal, so far away, as if he was hearing somebody scream at him from down a tunnel. She was lying in a heap on the cold concrete floor, clutching at her stomach. Hair falling over her face, shielding her facial expression from him. But he knew it was one of pain. Her own gun had fallen to the floor beside her, and lay there like a discarded toy. As he made his way towards her, another shot sounded, fainter this time. He'd been shot before, and the familiar feeling of the bullet piercing through skin, muscle and bone caused him to pause, grabbing his side. Once glance at the perp's surprised expression, and he hated him more than he'd hated anyone before. He watched as the perp ran away, after picking Olivia's gun off the floor. Elliot's legs gave out under him, and he was on the floor beside his fallen partner.

"Oh my God, Elliot...I never knew anything could hurt this bad." She said, once she'd looked up to confirm that it was, in fact, her partner.

"We'll get out of here...get to a hospital...they'll give us morphine or something." He tried to make the situation seem much better than it already was, although he knew that morphine was far from a cure for their injuries.

"Did you call for a bus?" Oh, right...That was a necessary step in their recovery. The radio clipped to Olivia's waist was so heavy right then, as he fumbled for the call button.

"This is SVU portable. We need...we need a bus. Off-officers...down." He let the thing fall to the floor once he was done, and waited for a response. He hated the calls like these, when the bus wasn't for a victim they would never see again, but for one of their own, a friend who was just like a family member.

"My God, you're hit too." She said, seeing the blood flow down his light blue shirt. She'd always loved seeing him in light blue. Pity the red had to stain it. He'd taken off his suit jacket to hold it against her wound.

"Copy that SVU portable." The radio crackled to life. "What's your location?"

"4th street by the Hudson river." They were so close, he could smell the saltwater, and the familiar stench of the garbage discarded, the smell that was stronger on summer days like these.

"Roger that. Bus is on it's way." He let the radio fall one last time. Olivia leaned against the wall behind her. Her face was sweaty, and she had tears rolling down her face. Elliot reached up to wipe them away, leaving a smear of blood across her cheek.

"We're gonna die, Elliot." He'd never heard her use that tone of voice before. The calm, rational, strong Olivia was gone. She sounded like a scared little girl trapped in a grown up's body.

"No, no sweetie no, we're not gonna die. Help's coming. We're going to be just fine." He knew both were losing too much blood too fast. It would take a miracle to save them. He hoped all those years of being a good Catholic would pay off. He had to keep a strong face for her. He got no response from the woman he'd grown to love over the years. She simply blinked at him, as he draped an arm around her shoulder. "just fine." He repeated softly. It was more to reassure himself, to keep him strong now, as his own beliefs started to fade from his mind and reality sunk in.. He wanted to believe the optimistic, happy go lucky fantasy he was creating in his head. That he'd see his family surrounding his bed in the morning. That once he was better, he'd finally take Olivia out on a date. He concentrated on it so hard, that when the thought of death intruded on him again, he was terrified.

"It's okay, Elliot." She said after a while. Normal Olivia seemed to be back all of a sudden.

"How do you know that? How do you know that it's not just going to be nothingness for the rest of eternity?" They'd switched roles. He took on the role of the terrified child, and she the one of the rational comforting parent. She wasn't too sure how to answer him. He'd always been the more spiritual one.

"I don't." She said finally. "I'm just going to have faith in something I've never really believed in before." There were a few more minutes of silence before she spoke again. "Elliot, we've surrounded oursevles with death and destruction. Made it our life's work to try and stop it. But now...now it's our turn to go out. You just have to take a leap of faith, and believe that we'll be together for that eternity that scares you so much." He raised his eyes from the floor to look at her. He was filled with a sense of peace, she was always able to do that to people.

"I love you, Olivia." She smiled, and he finally gave her the kiss he'd been waiting to give her since the day he met her. She fell backwards onto the floor, wrapping her arms around him as they tongue wrestled for the first, and last, time. The only thing they were aware of now was each other, not the pain, or the fear, or even the blood soaking through their clothes.

"I love you, Elliot." They shared a grin. "And no matter what happens, I'll always be with you. Wherever we go after this, I'll always be with you." He was crying again, but this time from joy rather than sadness. As they lay there on the floor, bleeding in each other's arms while the world faded slowly around them. Every unspoken apology, every regret thay had didn't seem to matter at this moment. As the world became dimmer, they were barely aware of the sounds around them, intruding on their silence.

"I feel so calm." She whispered.

"Me too." They smiled at each other, and Elliot kissed her one last time. "Love you."

"I love you too, Elliot. Always."

"Together forever..." He murmured as they both finally faded from the world, onto wherever they were destined to go.

* * *

"Damn." Was all Fin could bring himself to say. Staring at the couple on the ground, just seconds after they'd gone, still holding onto each other. He knew there was no hope, not after he saw all of that blood surrounding them. Their blood. Somehow the reality of it all just wasn't sinking in. He always thought he'd react differently. With anger, or hysterical tears maybe. Not like this, this odd feeling of calm that he hated. 

"Oh my...why them? why...two good people in the world and they have to go out like this..." Munch seemed to be experiencing all of the emotions Fin was lacking. "I'll kill the bastard when I find him. They weren't supposed to go like this. Not now, at least." Fin, still feeling strangely calm, placed a hand on his partner's back. Cragen was somewhere in the background, the silent witness to his detectives' sorrow. He'd lost a daughter that day. And a son. He wasn't so sure if he had the strength to comfort either of the surviving members of their little family.

"D'you..." Munch broke the silence after a few minutes. "D'you ever wonder what a victim's last thoughts are?" A pause. The thought had never really occurred to him. All that ever really mattered during a case was catching whoever did it, and seeing that they got justice.

"No." He said finally.

"I do..."

"I'm sure that..." Fin broke off, as a surge of emotion overtook him. "their last thoughts must have been happy ones, then." He gathered his information from the position of the bodies, Elliot holding on tightly to his partner, she snuggled agaisnt him as if they were merely sleeping. But they weren't. They wouldn't spring up suddenly and sceam 'gotcha!' at them, and then laugh, nor would they ever go on the date that had been betted on by their coworkers so many times. It was over for them now.

But life for the rest of them would go on. The investigation would have to continue. In a few days time there would be a funeral, something simple and small. They never really went for grandeur, really. Later, the mandatory therapy sessions would come, and then the drinking sessions following work. Life would have to go on without them. That was the way it was supposed to be.


End file.
